


Fool Me Thrice

by Greenninjagal



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 4000 words of Janus being tiredddd, Hurt/Comfort, Janus and Roman have a talk, Janus ends up crying, M/M, Oh wait there is an angsty ending, Roman does not know what to do at all, Touch-Starved Deceit | Janus Sanders, Virgil is only mentioned sorry, Wow did that ep change my headcanons a bit, my b, spoilers for fwsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26955226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenninjagal/pseuds/Greenninjagal
Summary: “Fool me once,” Roman says in a soft tone, humming like it's a melody. “Shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice…”He sighs deeply.“And I think that means we need to actually think about talking out things like adults.”***aka the aftermath of FwSA except that Virgil was actually Janus in disguise the entire time.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Thomas Sanders/Nico Flores
Comments: 29
Kudos: 297





	Fool Me Thrice

“DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX!” Janus yells, but the incessant bubbling in his stomach causes the edges of his lips to quirk up anyway. It’s a ridiculous, intoxicating feeling, and it’s curling around his insides like a snake coiling around its prey. He wants to  _ smile _ . He wants to  _ jump.  _ He wants to  _ sing. _

But Virgil doesn’t do any of those things unless under threat and pressure and Janus has to keep-- he’s still pretending-- Janus is impersonating Virgil.

He’s not doing a very good job of it, and he knows. Ever since that stranger at the food court, that stranger who might be gay, that stranger whose name is Nico Flores and happens to  _ write songs _ \-- Ever since Nico uttered those silly, little words, and Thomas’s Heart and Creativity had swamped the controls, the more….intellectual sides were finding it hard to….think.

Everything’s fuzzy and blurry and Janus keeps trying to hit back that buzzing between his ears that comes every time that Roman and Patton team up and get lost in their contagious excitement. Virgil, certainly, is probably docile by now, flooded with the warm feelings that make it hard to panic over anything for at least another hour because he’s too busy riding that high of the “honeymoon” phase of dating-- before he remembers that it's possible that Nico might be a Serial Killer who lures his victims into relationships before slicing their throats and hiding their bodies in the woods.

He doubts that Logan’s having fun either: he hadn’t even bothered to show up when they had first spotted Nico across the cafeteria, not even to throw out that suggestion of saying “I see from your stickers we have similar interests. Let us discuss the possibility of future copulation now.” Which, of course, spells all sorts of troubles that Janus is going to have to fix later.

Later which seems to be now, because Thomas is jittery from the excitement flowing off of Roman and Patton and he is going to text Joan all about it which requires none of Janus-Virgil’s help.

It’s a flawless escape. Janus smiles inwardly, at the gooey feeling of pride in his stomach. He did it! One whole video, completely undercover! 

It figures that Virgil would be the key. 

Of all of them...well, Janus has always known Virgil the best. Anxiety and Self Preservation have gone hand in hand since Thomas was in diapers still. Janus grew up watching the curve of Virgil’s tense shoulders, watching the flickering of his eyes watching the entry points of the room, watching Virgil’s smirk curl and his eyeshadow bloom and--

And Janus knows Virgil hates him right now, even underneath the gooey layer of good feelings Patton is pumping through all of the Thomasphere. Janus even thinks that if he pops in to check on the little ball of nerves, Virgil will come back to his senses and start a murderous rampage on his way to stop Janus from ever impersonating any of them ever again. Which is  _ definitely  _ what Thomas needs right now. 

Whatever. He can celebrate his victory privately.

Thomas is happy. That’s all that matters right now. The rest can wait until the good emotions in Thomas calm down and Janus can think clearly again: he’ll get out his fermented grape juice and pour it in a glass so he can feel fancy and then he’ll figure out how to deal with Logan, listen to Patton’s emotional-gushing-that-ends-in-overwhelmed-tears, entertain the Duke’s R rated fantasies with a polite smile, congratulate the Prince for his victory, and then after all that he’ll send Virgil a card via messenger dove to thank him for his...bravery.

And  _ then  _ he’ll go to sleep for two hours, and hopefully when he wakes back up Thomas will not be on fire.

That’s… that’s a reasonable hope, right? He’s not asking too much of the other idiot sides, right?

The buzz between his eyes sharpens for a second, as Thomas shakes his hands some more, with a grin that Janus would absolutely  _ die  _ for. It's almost regrettable because if anyone took a moment to look at him, to look at the way he looks at Thomas, they would see immediately what his weakness is: Janus is Self Preservation, Self Importance, Self, self,  _ self _ . 

He’s weak for Thomas’s smile. The gut force that drives Virgil to do things is protection, so he tries to make Thomas recognize everything as a threat; for Roman its creation, so he tries to push Thomas to achieve all of his dreams. For Janus it's Thomas’s id wants, so he does whatever it takes to keep him happy.

A smile on Thomas’s face means that Janus is doing good, that he’s doing _ right by Thomas.  _ Who cares if in the end he’s the villain of the story? Who cares about  _ him  _ when there’s Thomas?

Thomas thanks him again-- actually he thanks Virgil, but Janus' face flushes anyway. The feeling in his stomach washes over him, leaving his knees weak and his lips smiling. Is this what being giddy is? He suddenly understands, suddenly, why Patton subscribes to that whole “Thomas is morally and objectively the best” philosophy; It’s a nice feeling, even if it makes it hard for Janus to concentrate on keeping Virgil’s eyeshadow the right color.

Thomas rushes by him-- almost close enough to touch again and wow Janus’ hands were still tingling from  _ that; _ He forgot that Virgil was always able to touch their host-- and runs up the stairs to go scream in a pillow and text Joan the brilliant news and Janus takes that as his cue.

Time to wrap it up and go. _ (to sleep. Oh god, he can hear his bed calling for him already.)  _

But when he turns back to the last side in the room, Roman is pressing his knuckles to his lips and staring at the blinds in Thomas’s living room like he can set them on fire with his mind.

“Princey?” Janus asks, his own smile slipping. “What’s up?”

Roman snaps over to look at him-- to look at Virgil, whom he trusts and likes and appreciates and who is definitely not Janus at all. Despite that, the way that Roman is looking at him with furrowed eyebrows that would sing of a scowl if Patton had been doing his job just slightly not as well as he is currently, forces Janus to check to make sure he’s still wearing Virgil’s appearance.

“I can’t figure it out,” Roman says, looking like he just caught his best friends in the middle of decorating for his surprise birthday party. “Why?”

Janus squeezes his eyes closed trying to focus on what Roman was talking about. He knows that he missed at least one thing that was said in the hullabaloo all day, but he didn’t think it was something that  _ Roman _ of all sides would be upset about. Why, what? Roman got the guy. What was so complicated about that?

Actually asking why is more on brand for Virgil.

For a ridiculous second Janus wonders if that  _ was  _ Virgil wearing Roman’s outfit and pretending to be him the way that Janus was pretending to be Virgil. But Janus is decently sure that Virgil can’t resist insulting Janus for more than five seconds at a time, and they’ve been side by side for hours now.

(And hadn’t that been  _ nice?  _ If Janus had just closed his eyes, he could have imagined the grateful smile Roman had given Virgil had been meant for  _ him.) _

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Ro,” Janus shrugs. “But I’m gonna go. All these good emotions are like...disgusting.” He sticks out his tongue that way that he’s seen Virgil do every time that Thomas has to eat the carrots his mom put on his plate just to sell the act, but Roman’s jaw sets.

“Why did you do that?” Roman bursts out before Janus can get all the way out, “Why? Janus!”

Janus should have run then, should have pretended that Virgil hadn’t heard him at all and let the other sides argue with each other, but his name is so new and shiny and no one ever _uses_ _it._ The words vibrate through the air like needles and the next thing he knows is that he’s pinned in place, frozen, and Roman is looking very not-happy anymore.

Ha, so he knew. Looks like Janus  _ can’t  _ get through a video without being outed.

“I know it's you, you slimy snake,” Roman says. “Will you stop wearing Virgil’s face already! I want an answer!”

Janus’s tongue flicks in his mouth, rolling over the back of his teeth as he tries to think of the best way to handle this when all of his thoughts have to process through the molasses that is the gooey happiness Thomas is feeling and his own exhaustion.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Janus says, as blase as he can make it.

Which is….maybe not his best idea. The buzzing in his head makes the rest of the room go blurry for a second, in and out of focus and it’s _ so very helpful _ . 

Roman’s face goes red, stuck somewhere between being angry and being insulted. He reaches out and Janus’ legs do that thing where they don’t work so when he throws his weight back, away, out of reach, his body goes plummeting to the foot of the stairs as well.

Roman yelps, leaning forward for a moment maybe with the intent to help him back up but Janus throws up a hand to stop him before he knows for sure. His eyelids are heavy, he realizes, and he’s  _ tired _ and he really doesn’t want to have a fight with Roman right now.

“I had fun, Roman. Thank you for the...  _ entertainment  _ this evening.” He says, dropping the last of his stellar Virgil impression. He wonders how long he had Roman fooled, if he had him fooled at all for any point. Does he dare wonder how many of those smiles were given knowing that it was Deceit in disguise?

(He doesn’t and he resents the implication that he cares what the others think of him.)

“Congrats on wooing the boy or whatever.” Janus climbs back up to his feet and brushes imaginary dust off his tunic. Or it could be real. He’s not sure considering that he’s so tired he can’t see anything in front of him.

“You fiend!” Roman snarls, “What did you do to our Stormcloud?”

“Why don’t you go find out?”Janus suggests, with a half-assed flourish, even by his own standards, “Or better yet, don’t. In the meantime, I’ll be in my room.”

But Roman snags his arm and holds him up and Janus is acutely aware that sinking out with another side is troublesome and takes so,  _ so  _ much focus and energy. (And Romans touch is scalding. It’s burning. It’s white hot and Janus wasn’t aware he had been freezing before.)

“I’m tired of this game, Snakes and Ladders!” Roman says. “Tired of not knowing what you’re up to! Tired of not knowing what Thomas wants! Tired of getting backseat to  _ self care _ and  _ morality _ and-- and I’m Tired, Janus! Why do you keep doing this to me?!”

And  _ hooooooo _ , does that strike something in Janus! The soft feelings in his chest burn right up in an anger he hadn’t even known he had been feeling. But it must have been there for a while because it boils right through him, leaving his chest smoldering and his mouth tasting like ashes.

“You think  _ you’re  _ tired?” He snaps, burns, blazes. There’s something in this throat, and it makes every word catch  _ fire  _ when it comes out of his mouth. And even Roman has enough sense to know that fire is dangerous and that he’s going to be cremated if he doesn’t _ step back. _

“You think you’re tired,” Janus repeats, taking a step forward so that they’re nearly toe-to-toe and he can see the way that Roman’s Adam's apple bobs. “What about  _ me _ , Roman? Don’t you think  _ I’m  _ tired? That I’m exhausted? That I know I’m going to have to sink back down and figure out what is wrong with Logan and listen to Patton and keep Remus busy and make sure that none of you morons overpower the others and drive Thomas directly into the ground? That I haven’t slept a full night since the whole start of these videos and moral dilemmas and whatever else? Every time I turn around Thomas is making another lie: to his friends, to his family, to himself! Don’t you think that I… that I…”

Roman is staring at him.

Janus’s head pounds. The room around him sways and he thinks that maybe...maybe the reason he can’t think straight right now doesn’t actually have anything to do with Patton’s elation keeping Thomas busy.

“Oh,” Janus says because he blinked and now he’s on the floor. 

He blinks again and Roman is right next to him, looking concerned-- how ridiculous. Roman being concerned for him. Ha.

“Janus…” Roman’s voice is low, which makes Janus aware suddenly that everything else had been so loud all this time. He grits his teeth when Roman waves a hand and magics up… what are those, tissues? Why would he--

Oh.

Janus is crying. He reaches a hand up tentatively rubbing away the tears, and has to swallow a laugh. Oh, he's crying. When was the last time he cried? When was the last time he cried  _ in front of someone else? _

He's so, so tired. And that's the reason-- the only reason, mind you-- that when Roman scooches closer, a centimeter, an inch, a foot, and then rests his hand on Janus' shoulder, Janus doesn't push him off and immediately sink out to his room. It takes too much energy to lock a room, even his, from the others and Roman would surely follow after him and demand answers.

Roman’s touch is a shaky, changing warmth. Janus noticed it earlier when Roman had said the word “Bravery” and Janus hadn’t been able to form an actual response because he was so busy wondering if this was how all touch was supposed to feel. But now he thinks he can count every single atom that is touching him and the awareness hums in his veins in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

He sucks in an equally shaky breath and tries not to look like he’s leaning into the feeling. His stomach rolls around, twisting and churning to the point where it hurts. He might be able to blame this on a stomach bug. The other sides probably wouldn’t look farther than that. They don’t like him enough to look farther than that.

“Janus,” Roman says again, calling him by name and Janus wants to tell him to stop. He sounds like he  _ cares  _ and Janus knows it’s a lie. He thinks it’s a lie. He’s pretty sure it’s a lie.

It’s hard to tell right now, especially when his own inner desire is yearning for it not to be. He can’t trust himself when he’s like this. He always ends up doing something stupid.

Like sitting at the foot of Thomas’s stairs crying in front of Roman.

“Fuck,” Janus says, and laughs, like this was part of his grand master plan that  _ definitely  _ exists. He ignores the tissues Roman places at their knees and uses the back of his palms to get rid of those pesky, unprofessional tears. “My most humble apologies, my dear prince. Too much fun today I suppose--”

“Janus,” Roman cuts him off, and Janus wishes his sharp inhale was a little less noticeable. “Are you… Did….”

Janus can feel how Roman’s thumb is rubbing his shoulder, slow circles like a loading screen while he tries to weave together a sentence that makes coherent sense.

“Why?” Roman decides. “Why are you...why did you help Thomas meet Nico? Why did you force him to do it naturally without any lies? I thought you liked when Thomas tells lies!”

Janus snorts, which is a bad decision because his nose is runny and, god, now there’s snot all over his face, which just makes the lump in the back of his throat grow larger. He snatches up the stupid tissues and tears open the pack.

“I don’t--” Janus wipes away the snot, and tosses the tissue into oblivion. “I don’t want Thomas to lie  _ all  _ the time. Do you think I’m crazy, Roman? I have to  _ manage  _ every lie Thomas tells himself! It’s… It’s… imagine if you had to make a new video script every single day.”

Janus can see Roman’s confused look. It's adorable really, like a puppy that just got told to “Stay.” He recognizes that Janus is saying something, that Janus is talking to him, but the full meaning of the words is lost on him.

“If it's so taxing, why do you  _ do  _ it, then?” He asks, like it's some sort of choice and not his  _ job. _

“Why do you make video scripts? Why do you help Thomas practice his lines? Why do you take him on daydreams when he’s bored?” 

“Because he asks me to,” Roman answers without a single hesitation. “Wait….”

Janus leans forward pressing his chin to his knees. His eyes close for a moment, two, three while Roman struggles to understand what Janus isn’t blatantly saying.

“Imagine if  _ Thomas asked you  _ to make a new video script every single day. Do you think you could say no to that?”

Roman makes a wounded noise from deep in the bottom of his soul. It resonates in the air between them, like an elephant neither of them wants to admit is there. Janus breathes in deeply, and wards off the fresh round of lovely wonderful tears that come from his lovely wonderful headache.

“I’m sorry about the court case, Roman,” Janus says. The words feel dangerous, like throwing knives and Roman flinches back, leaving the spot on Janus’s shoulder painfully freezing. “I wanted-- I wanted Thomas to do what he loved. I wanted him to stop lying about wanting to go to the callback and I thought that if I just made it so that only you could make the decision it would be easier! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  _ I’m sorry _ .”

Janus breathes in, but somehow it seems that all the oxygen in the room had dissipated without their knowledge. He gasps a few times, trying to get a steady rhythm back but the white noise in his head and the itch behind his eyes keep throwing him off. 

There’s laughter-- it takes him a moment to realize it's his own. Which is just great, just fantastic, just what he needed. He finally got the sordid apology out and now he’s  _ laughing _ . 

But Roman is looking at him not with a scowl, but with some other emotion Janus can’t quite name through his blurry vision. For a second he thinks it might be fear-- which is even more funny than the idea that Virgil had been pretending to be Roman this whole time. In the safety of Thomas’s apartment, when Thomas had just gotten the boy of his dreams, when Janus was on the ground out of secret agendas to hide, what is there for Roman to fear?

“I just--” Janus gasps one more time, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. “Thomas deserves a win.  _ You  _ deserve a win. That's why I wanted to help with Nico.” He feels like his head is going to pop right off. Maybe if he asks nicely Roman will get out his sword and do it free of charge and relatively painlessly.

“So I...ha, so I spent all day playing dress up,” Janus hates the wobble in his voice. “And now I’m a day behind on managing all my work and now Patton’s going to want to talk about what happened today, and someone needs to listen to Remus and Logan is obviously not doing too well so I have to check on him-- and Virgil too even though Virgil will probably throw something at me but I have to….And then Thomas is going to need me and I have…. I have to…”

“You really… you really do all that?” Roman says in a small voice that doesn’t suit him at all. “All by yourself?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else to  _ help _ , Roman.” Janus says before he can stop himself.

“I’ll help you!”

Janus freezes. Because, well.

He’s heard those words before, hasn’t he? Not all that too long ago. When the divide between dark and light was more defined and Thomas hadn’t started posting videos with them in it and Janus wasn’t afraid of the purple door in the middle of the hall.

He knows how this conversation goes all too well.

But Janus apparently can’t learn any new tricks because he still says, “No, I can do this myself.”

_ (“You’ll kill yourself from stress, Jan!” Virgil had yelled. “Then where will we be?” _

_ “I have everything under control, Virgil! I don’t need any help! Just drop it, okay?” _

_ “Thomas and the Light sides are running you ragged and you want me to pretend like it isn’t hurting you? Are you crazy? They need to stop lying so much!”  _

_ “No! I can handle this!” _

_ “Janus!” _

_ “Virgil!” _

_ “I can’t let you keep doing this,” Virgil had said, “If you won’t do something I will.” _

_ “Don’t you dare!” _

_ But he had. And now he was a light side, an accepted side, everyone’s favorite side. And he was slowly convincing Thomas to stop lying by turning Janus into something to be feared and avoided. How quaint. How trademark.) _

Roman is staring at him. Janus can feel the weight of his eyes on him, and somehow that's worse than his hand on Janus’ shoulder. It’s heavier. It’s harder to just shrug off. It means something more.

Because Roman isn’t talking. And Janus isn’t hiding.

And if the words weren’t so hard to say, he thinks that maybe Virgil was right, and he should apologize.

“Huh,” Roman says after the silence threatens to swallow them both. He clears his throat and mercifully looks away, staring at that painting over Thomas’s couch. “I didn’t think you were stupid.”

Janus hisses at him, at the idea of him. But Roman flicks his fingers.

“Oh come  _ on _ , Ouroboros,” Roman says. “You handle all of Thomas’s lies, and then you’re out there looking after each of us sides as well? I think after 31 videos we can all agree that one side being entire in control of Thomas is a bad thing! So why are you still trying to do everything?”

Janus has a very good answer. The best answer. 

But Roman’s elbow reaches out and nudges him and all his thoughts scatter into the air. Maybe that was intentional, but Janus can’t find the energy in himself to really be angry about it. 

“I…” Janus says, “I just want Thomas to be happy.”

“So do the rest of us too, Snakecrates!-- Get it? Like Socrates?-- Not gonna lie, your way to make him happy is truly… the foulest of methods, but at the end of the day we’re all a part of him.” Roman says. “Maybe instead of trying to puppet master this you could...try working with us? Like showing up as yourself instead of using Virgil’s or Logan’s face again?”

Janus snorts again. The backs of his eyelids shoot bright red stars across his vision. “As if. None of you would listen if I did things that way.”

Roman nudges him again. “It's just a suggestion, Slitherous Snape.”

“How many of those do you have?”

“Nicknames?” Roman pauses, and Janus guesses that he’s counting on his hand. “Dunno. A lot. I never get to use them because you show up in someone else’s clothes and I don’t realize it’s you. All the more reason you should listen to me and just show up as your usual self!”

Janus must have made a noise, but his brain is too preoccupied with the fact that the carpet in Thomas’s apartment is actually really comfy and if he buries his head in his knees the room is actually dark. His headache is a dull repetitive thob, like a drum beat that if he doesn’t focus too much on becomes a noise he can fall asleep to.

“I thought you hated me.” He admits, in a quiet tone and only partially hopes that it was too low for Roman to hear.

“Fool me once,” Roman says in a soft tone, humming like it's a melody. “Shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice…”

He sighs deeply.

“And I think that means we need to actually think about talking out things like adults.” Roman nudges him again, and then places his arm around Janus’s shoulders. “But not right now, when you’re half dead from exhaustion. Let’s get you to your room, Jan.”

There’s a cold feeling around both of them, washing over Janus’s muscles like a flood, as they sink down. His eyes open briefly just in time to make out his own room surroundings before Roman drops him on his bed.

Oh, it’s really comfortable. Has his body always sunk into his mattress like this?

“Get some sleep, Deceit,” Roman says.

“Wait... Logan…” Janus definitely does not whine.

“I’ll handle the nerd.” 

There are so many reasons why that’s a bad idea-- Janus knows there are a bunch of reasons because he wrote them down on flashcards to study in between grieving Virgil leaving the dark sides and managing the lies Thomas tells day to day and the ones he had going on forever and the ones that sides told each other and--.

But before he can say any of that, Roman sifts a gentle hand through his hair and Janus loses the ability to think again.

(Janus really doesn’t remember when Roman gained that power.)

He curls up almost unintentionally on his bed, and Roman makes a noise that could have been a laugh, if Janus cared enough to check.

“Sweet dreams,” Roman says softly.

“W…wait!” Janus gathers the last bit of his energy, the residue from the gooey feelings Thomas was harboring, and surges after Roman before he can leave all the way. “How did you... know it was me? And not…”

“Virgil?” Roman offered. “You kept messing with the eyeshadow, Janus. He has that angsty charcoal color on twenty-four-seven. You kept changing it to purple. I mean I liked it, but that’s not his style.”

Janus frowns. “No….he has the purple when he’s happy. I know he has the purple… He only started wearing the black...when he was trying to freak out Thomas.” He sighs and settles back into his pillow. “It glows...when he’s happy…”

Janus has plenty of memories about that, too. They were some of his favorites: Virgil on Christmas morning when the prospect of presents was more scary than the idea of all Thomas’s relatives coming over, Virgil on late nights watching cryptid history shows with Remus and talking about marrying Mothman when Thomas got older, Virgil right after he first appeared to Thomas, glowing in all senses of the word because their host  _ knew who he was _ . 

Janus remembers being a little upset when Virgil covered it up, because it was another lie then: Virgil was hiding part of who he was and the three of them had always agreed on no lies between them. 

Besides Virgil had always looked younger with the purple, looked more happy, looked more approachable. He looked like he was excited to see Janus and not like he would rip out his throat if they ended up in a room alone together. 

Virgil was purple long before he had been black, and Janus thinks he might have been in love with him even before that too.

Who had he been talking to, again?

Janus gets the distinct feeling something is wrong, but his pillows are comfy, and his mattress is soft and he’s been running on fumes for far too long. He’s fast asleep before he realizes that Roman is still in his room, frowning, and wondering if that meant Virgil had never actually been happy around the Light Sides at all. 


End file.
